Reunion of Lies
by Jillian D
Summary: Francie survived the bullet from A.G. Doren. She and Will are in the CIA living in Langley. The CIA told them Sydney was dead. They told Sydney that Will and Francie were dead. Vaughn thinks Syd's dead, Syd thinks Vaughn's dead. S3.
1. Among the Ruins

**LOS ANGELES, EL GATSBY APARTMENTS, 4:23PM**

Sydney Bristow stepped into her old apartment clutching the letter she's just received in her left hand. She almost felt excited as she remembered the contents of the letter.

_Dear student,  
As you well know, you were among Madison High School's graduating class of 1996. It is now the year 2006, ten years later, and Madison High is holding a ten year reunion for the class of 96. No one is obligated to attend, but if you do attend, we ask that you follow this dress code:  
Casual wear is NOT permitted.  
Dress **FORMALLY**.  
That means black ties, boys._

_Sincerely,  
Dr. Sandra P. Scott  
School Counselor_

Sydney smiled and she stepped over a piece of shattered glass. She remembered Francie Calfo, her late best friend, acting as if she'd just been tortured to death after a conversation with Dr. Scott. 

"She wanted to know how I felt about racism," Francie had told Sydney. Francie herself was an African American, and Dr. Scott was an all white American gringo, as a Cuban would put it.

"What did you tell her?" Sydney had asked.

"I told her all white people should burn in hell. I think she's a Jew because she just smiled a whole lot. The creep."

Sydney noticed the ruins of her old coffee table which had been destroyed during a fight with Allison Doren. Sydney had won, of course. 

There was a wooden picture frame lying between small pieces of broken wood. The glass was half broken and the frame held a picture of her son of a bitch terrorist mother whom she wished was dead. A different picture caught Sydney's attention. It lay in a silver frame, the glass covering it was cracked but Sydney could see the photograph clearly. It was one taken by her deceased fiancé, Danny Hecht. In the picture, Sydney was sitting on a blue beach towel, her toes wriggling in the sand and she was laughing with her two best friends Francie Calfo and Will Tippin.

But everyone in that picture was dead, her friends, her fiancé, even herself…she might as well be, right? Sydney let her mind go to a place she'd vowed never to go again. She allowed herself to remember that dreaded moment at the Micro Tech warehouse.

**MICRO TECH WARE HOUSE, ONE YEAR AGO**

Sydney had sat in that warehouse many times before, but something made this time different. It wasn't her…no, it wasn't her at all. It was the people around her, the way her father hadn't even tried to make eye contact with her, the way Director Kendall looked at her. Then came a beefy man with graying hair in a blue suit.

"Hello Agent Bristow," he said in a German accent. They exchange glances and shook hands, Sydney trying as hard as she could not to notice the cold stares of the people around her. They were staring at the man in front of her, which told her he could only mean bad news. "I am Alejandrio Alzuri: FBI."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Alzuri," Sydney forced herself to smile. "I don't mean to be rude, but why am I here?"

"You will know soon enough," said Alejandrio. "Now follow me." Sydney did so and in a matter of seconds they had both disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse. Jack Bristow stared off into that darkness, unaware of anything else around him.

He felt disgusted with himself. His own daughter would soon be feeling the worst pain imaginable, the kind that came with the loss of a loved one, and he couldn't tell her the truth.

He couldn't tell her that what she was now being told…he couldn't tell her that Francie and Will were really alive even as she was being told the opposite. He couldn't tell her the truth and that hurt more than if he'd lost his own mother. Because it felt as if he was losing his daughter…to darkness.

Jack had lied to the people he loved many times before. Even to his beloved Laura whom he would have given anything to keep, despite the fact that she was, in truth, a murderous, blood sucking terrorist who thought of no one but herself. But he had been able to lie to Laura. And to everyone else he had to. But lying to Sydney was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, harder than losing Laura----scratch that---Irina. Lying to Sydney meant lying to the one thing in his life that made him sane. In truth, Sydney was his life. Jack would rather help Arvin Sloane destroy the planet than to lie to his daughter, but he had no choice…right? Wrong. He could have easily helped Arvin Sloane bring an end to the world, but he was a man of morals, of principals, and he respected himself enough to know that he'd never help Sloane.

Jack was so caught up in his painful thoughts that he almost didn't notice it when Sydney burst into the light with her face ion her hands. He, Jack, tried to say something of comfort, however uncharacteristic of him it might be, but Sydney ran out of the warehouse before he could say a word.


	2. Francie, Interrupted

Francine Calfo was a normal girl, a proud African American. She was not who'd you expect to see stealing top secret information for the CIA. Yet there she was, being congratulated on a job well done, and somehow, the only thing she could think of was Sydney Bristow. Of how Syd would have loved working with Fran in the CIA. Of how she would have loved to walk all over those worthless losers she'd been teased by during high school. Sydney would have wanted to go to the Madison High reunion. So Francie would go in honor of her deceased best friend. She'd do all the things she knew Sydney would want to do. And she'd do them all out of love for Sydney, and nothing else.

Francie was strong. Hell, she'd survived a bullet to the brain even before CIA training. But nothing hurt her more than losing Sydney. It had happened nearly one year ago and she still found herself unable to move on completely. Because, in a way, Sydney hadn't left at all. She was still here, guiding Francie. Not letting Francie forget about her. Francie could almost see Sydney right now.

_"I'm your best friend, damn it. Forget about me and there'll be hell to pay…"_

Francie smiled. These were the kind of things she'd been seeing a shrink for. The kind of things that made her look insane. Francie laughed to herself as she sat down at her cubicle. She couldn't wait to go home with her boyfriend Will Tippin. God, Francie couldn't believe how much she wanted it to be 5:00OM right now.

_Hurry up clock!_ She thought._See, this is the kind of thing that even makes you doubt your own god damn sanity…_


	3. Retro Ex

**Hi, I'm Jillian. Sorry it took so long for this chapter! Hope you enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW!!!**

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The Los Angeles airport was completely packed. If there was a word that meant more than packed, the LA airport was its definition. Sydney Bristow had just gotten off a flight from Stockholm, Sweden. She started speed walking through the crowd of tourists. If she could get out of the airport soon enough, she'd be able to go shopping for a reunion dress.

"Sydney?!" Oh god…it was Greg Ortiz, her high school boyfriend. Sydney tried to disappear. So far, it wasn't working.

"Hey Greg," she was forced to say. Just then she noticed the stares of a few passers by. Then she remembered…she was still in her disguise! Sydney reached up and touched the dark black wig she wore. It was straight and reached just above her shoulders, the bright red streaks adding a sort of rebel vibe while her white Armani business suit made her outfit perfect the hit woman costume.

"Your hair…it's…nice…"

"Oh, this?" Sydney hid a few strands of hair behind her left ear and smiled. "This is for work," she shuffled her off white leather boots uncomfortably, the situation making it hard for her to think, let alone breath. "I had to cover for my friend on a business trip to Sweden and the guy I was meeting knew I was supposed to have like crazy hair."

"I like it. It's very retro, very cool," Greg smiled.

_Ugh, who says 'retro' anymore? _Sydney thought. _And I hate his stupid Brady Bunch smile, obviously courtesy of Crest Whitening Strips._

"Thanks Greg," she said. Suddenly, a short, thin red head came into view dragging two rolling suit cases behind her. She wore a short green shirt with a white and pink dotted peasant blouse and smiled widely as she walked up to Greg and gave his a brief kiss on the lips. The red head made sure her engagement ring was completely visible to Sydney as she greeted Greg.

_She thinks I'm hitting on Greg!_ Sydney realized. _Ha Ha Ha!_

"This is my fiancé Cameron," he announced. He looked at his future wife. "Honey, remember I told you about my ex, Sydney. This is her."

"Hi," Sydney waved. Cameron gave Sydney a heartless smile and whispered something into Greg's ear loud enough for Sydney to hear.

"You didn't tell me your ex was a Gothic nut job," Cameron protested.

"I…Sydney's…She's very complicated," Greg explained. "She'll do just about anything just for fun."

"Well, isn't this fun," Sydney said, interrupting the couple's 'top secret conversation'. The two turned to face her. "Unfortunately, I have a job to get to. It was nice to meet you Cameron, and I hope we'll meet again. See you at the reunion!"

"Can't wait," Greg said. He wrapped an arm around his fiancé, smiled, and disappeared into the airport crowd.

_Thank God that's over._


	4. The Breakup

**I changed a paragraph in this story as well as the summary of the story thanks to a review from Kate (Dreamer Child) who suggested Vaughn should think Syd was dead. Sorry, but you gotta re read this chapter if you already have. THANKS REVIEWERS! THANKS KATE!**

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"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Lauren Reed asked her husband. He was staring at his dinner plate, fidgeting with his fork. Michael Vaughn wasn't a stupid man all the time. Only when he was around Lauren, wishing that he was with Sydney Bristow.

"Huh, what? Think about whom?" Michael asked. He looked up from his plate, blinking.

_He's been day dreaming,_ Lauren thought. _I bet he wouldn't notice if I shot him in the heart. _

"You're thinking about Sydney," she said.

"What? Why would you think that?" he asked.

"Michael, you carved her name in your baked potato," Lauren pointed a freshly manicured fingernail at her husband's plate. It was true. Without knowing it, he'd carved his ex-girlfriend's name into his dinner.

"Oh…I...I uh didn't notice," he quickly turned the potato over so the carving was no longer visible. Lauren sighed and put her head in her hands.

"You need to see someone about this. I'm going to request that you see a psychologist every week," Lauren informed him.

"What? No, don't do that!" he nearly shouted. A few faces turned to them.

"Shhhhh!"

"Sorry," he muttered. "I just don't think I need to see a doctor. I'm fine."

"No, Michael. You are not fine. You haven't been sleeping, you think about her 24 hours a day!"

"That's not true," Vaughn protested.

"It's entirely true and I don't think I can take much more of it," she said. Lauren looked down and covered his hand with hers. "Sydney Bristow died two years ago, remember? You can't go on like this, baby. You need to see a doctor…promise me you'll see a doctor."

"I won't have to," said Vaughn, slowly moving his hand away. "Lauren, I don't think this is working out. You don't deserve this."

"W-what?" she asked, looking terrified.

"I think we should get a divorce, this time for good. The CIA has excellent lawyers, they could help the process flow quickly and in a few weeks we would be over," he suggested.

"You want to get a divorce?!" Lauren exclaimed. Faces turned to them once again.

"Lauren, calm down please."

"Calm down? Calm down?!" she stood up and began inching away slowly. "You want to get a divorce and you expect me to CALM DOWN?!"

"Lauren, please, just sit down," begged Michael. She gave him a look of deep hatred.

"No," she mumbled, her voice becoming hard and dark. "I'll see you in the courts, Mr. Vaughn." And with that, she was gone.

Michael sighed and let his forehead drop to the surface of the table.

_Beautiful,_ he thought.


	5. Hmmm, Interesting

"What happened to Dr. Barnett?" Sydney Bristow sat on a large leather chair with her legs crossed. She wore the usual grey business suit with her straight brown hair in a messy bun, her hands rested on her lap. In front of Ms. Bristow, sitting behind a large mahogany desk, was Dr. Chandler Barut, her new CIA psychologist. 

Dr. Barut was a tall, thin man with graying black hair and a blonde goatee.

"Dr. Barnett is busy with a patient in Zurich," said Barut.

"Arvin Sloane," Sydney assumed.

"Yes, that is the name of her patient," he said. "But I want to know about you. So far you've only told me about the tragic death of William Tippin and Francine Calfo. What about Agent Michael Vaughn."

Sydney's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her former love's name. She hadn't thought about Vaughn in nearly a month. Dr. Barnett had been helping her get over his death and she'd been making progress but now Syd would have to start all over again with her new doctor.

"Agent Vaughn was the love of my life," Sydney half-said and half-whispered. "My dad didn't tell me much about his death. Just that it was my mo---Irina Derevko who savagely murdered him. She'd killed his father before."

"Your mother killed the love of your life?" Barut rubbed his chin in that annoying way that doctors loved so much. It was taunting. "Hmmm…interesting…"

_Okay, now he's just trying too hard,_ she thought.

"Yeah, it's very interesting now can I please go?" Sydney asked.

Barut looked up as if he'd been lost in deep thought.

_Yeah, right. He was probably debating which color M –n- M he should vote for this year._

"Oh, yes, you can leave," he said. Sydney flew off her seat, rapidly shook his hand and rushed out the door.

"Thanks!"


End file.
